1. Charcoal Pinstripes


    Date: 10/10/2017, Categories: Group Sex, Author: Metilda, Rating: 11, Source: LushStories

    myself to look at him. Part of me was well aware of how attractive he was, young with a slight rough edge to his features, and I wondered if he actually had taken a woman or two on that very bench. When he passed me a silver pocket square I had to be careful not to touch him. We were joined minutes later by another person and I was certain to look up and verify that it was indeed Ruben before saying or doing anything. I tried to flow right into ‘we were talking about tie colors’ . . . but that didn’t matter. Ru could read the shift in my demeanor. His eyes narrowed, just slightly, and I knew his mental gears were turning, trying to sort it out. You can't be married for over a decade and not become tuned into your partner's mental state in some sense. On the way home, alone in my van with the radio turned off, I tried to assure myself that what I did was just a little slip up and it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, did it? I didn’t actually do anything wrong. I just made an ass out of myself. That’s hardly a crime. So why do I feel guilty? We both arrived at our home within minutes of each other, him first, of course, and I was tired of feeling bad for something that was, really, just outright silly. With my big girl panties on, I told him what happened—turned on, ménage, the embarrassing slip of tongue—all the while forcing myself to smile and laugh. By the time I finished, Ru’s eyes had widened, I sucked in a deep breath, and then he laughed with a loud, belting boom. ...
    Yes, I was worried over nothing. We had normal evening after that. Steak and potatoes for dinner. The evening news. I sat and edited, pushing to make this evening's deadline. Ru sat and watched Hockey on TV. After a while, though, I began to sense that something was off. Ruben was a bit more withdrawn than usual and when I finally asked him about it he said he was, “Thinking things over.” My keystrokes became louder as the odd heaviness of the night grew thicker. Thirty minutes, then an hour, then two went by. It seemed silly, but I began to sense that what should have been nothing was something dreadfully awful, it was all my fault, and I was being punished with silence. When I finally finished editing, with no great amount of fanfare, I joined Ru on the couch. It was then that I realized I was being punished with another thing: ‘no touching’. There’s no one word for it, though, I have to make something up like ‘contactlessness’ or ‘handsoffism’, whichever works best for you. I think ‘touchlence’ is the most succinct, here. Call Oxford to report that I have invented a new word. Touchlence. Verb. The act of not touching someone with the intent of driving them insane. Okay so that's being over the top, I know. But still chaffed from earlier, in that moment, that's what I felt. Eventually, after a night of me trying to cozy up to him and being given only touchlence in return, Ru got up from the couch and went to bed, saying little. It couldn't possibly be because of that stupid ...
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